Let Us Love
by kakashidiot
Summary: Huguecentric genfic. Hugue cooking in the kitchen. What does the sister think? Reflection piece. RandR! Based on a lucious piece of fanart. Dedicated to akumasama


_**I do not own Trinity Blood.**_

_**b/c akumasama, a great friend on LJ shared with us a nice piccie of Hugue in the kitchen... and this came out as a response... sad? perhaps... **_

_**Pairing: None. Kind of fluffy. Hugue-centric. **_

**_READ AND REVIEW!!!!_**

_**VERSE: 1 John 4: 7-8**_

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**Let Us Love **

He looked down at her silent face - small, pale and round, and he wondered.

_If she's like that - if sister, somewhere - out there - is alone and scared and in need of a protector..._

He wondered -

And the grip on his sword became that much tighter.

He turned away sharply from the bed and the small, still figure. The sister would be waking up soon.

_Perhaps a small meal would be in order._

_Or meditation._

There was alot to think through this time around. Hugue knew what the Lady expected of him... but would he deliver? Or dissappoint?

_Protect the Sister..._

* * *

"Father." 

Her small voice cut into the silence. Pierced - banished - the eyes of his sister.

Her eyes, he could feel keenly. Traveling over his scarred back and arms - and the golden waves of his hair - He rose calmly, his face shuttered like the small silent houses of Amsterdam, hding dark secrets... hiding those treacherous beasts - those vampires.

_Or I'm being too fanciful?_ the sister chided himself. _He's like... an angel. Surely there is no vampire in his heart... He SAVED me..._

"I am Hugue de Watteau, a traveling priest," he said, voice deep and steady.

She blushed and lowered her eyes - and did not look up until the Father was fully dressed and his short jacket had been pulled on.

_Sweet and shy_, he thought approvingly.

He wondered.

_If sister would have been as modest and charitable._

Someone's stomach rumbled. Her face turned red.

"I thought a brunch was in order," he turned away. "Please. Show me the kitchen."

* * *

There was a polite argument over who would cook. Hugue won. He always did. His look alone silenced her protests. 

"You need rest," he reprimanded her gently.

And she blushed, subsiding to a stool. She watched in silent admiration as he found the vegetables, the beef stock, a slab of meat and several potatoes. Deft and efficient, he peeled and diced the potatoes, fried the meat lightly before throwing it all into the pots.

There was only silence.

And the rhythmic chopchopchop of the large knife slicing the carrots, shelling the peas and quartering the beans.

It lulled her - a homely kind of lullaby. Bringing back the murmurs of the Reverend Father at prayers - and the tuneless humming of the cook - it brought a lump to her throat.

_They're dead now... And I -_

The clang of the frying pan on the range jolted her -

_Had I fallen asleep?_

She wondered - as the Reverend Father's last sermon echoed faintly in her mind, fading away to nothing...

_**"Beloved - let us love one another -"**_

_Let us love - let us love one another..._

_How much time had passed?_

The sun had risen - to flood through the tall windows, lighting up the dusty room, giving the hanging photos a gentle bronze glow. Even the hanging herbs, the careless mounds of onion and potatoes seemed to be imbued with a nostalgic homeliness. Caught in the gold halo of curly hair, falling back over straight shoulders, the noon sun's ray reached past her, trying to soften the stern planes of his face.

He turned then, ever so slightly, in silent enquiry. She blushed again, and dropped her eyes. After a couple of moments, her bowl of soup was set gently in front of her. Smelling the enticing aroma of beef, potatoes and veggies, she looked rather embarassed at the sound of her stomache's more urgent rumbling.

Closing her eyes, she gave a prayer of thanks.

_Thank you Lord, for this food. For Father Hugue. For your Divine protection..._

When he left her to her job of tidying up, the Sister had alot to think on.. Hugue's cryptic words - the sad light in his eyes - and his apparent love of the tulips in her humble garden.

And she wondered -

_What did he see in those flowers?_

* * *

When it was all over - when she opened her eyes - and saw nothing but the nurse's face bent over hers. 

He was not there.

_No real surprise_, she felt, after a moment's thought.

"Where is Father Hugue?" she asked weakly.

The nurse shook her head.

"He is gone. He brought you here - then left..."

And the Sister wondered.

"Such a quiet one -" murmured the nurse. "But he left you this..."

And there besider he, on the pillow was his cross. A small reminder -

A small memory -

A warm kitchen and the smell of beef stock.

Outside the hospital window, the tulips danced - and she sat up, cross in hand, to watch.

_Thank you_, she said silently to that beautiful stranger with the mysterious staff. _Thank you._

She could lay it all to rest now - and linked with the tulips, the soup, the cross was a sermon.

_**"Beloved,**_

_**Let us love one another.**_

_**For love is of God, and anyone who loveth is born of God and knoweth God.**_

_**He that loveth not, knoweth not God, for God is love -"**_

_Beloved. Let us love one another -_

_Let us love._

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READ AND REVIEW! 


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